The thing began to assume a dramatic aspect. Graves was a haunted man.
He was obliged, or he felt himself obliged, to find a place for Miss
Clare in our organization, and the task was a hideous one.
He changed. His brisk self-assurance gave place to a harassed air, and
he acquired a new and rather touching way of appealing to the rest of
us. In fact, we were all deeply concerned about Miss Clare. We would go
joyously to Graves, to tell him we thought something had turned up that
would suit her. We always phrased it that way; but it never did suit
her.
In the final analysis this was Graves’s fault, because it was he who had
made the office so brutally efficient. To be more frank than modest, it
was not so much that Miss Clare was very bad as that the rest of us were
so good. She failed to come up to our standard. Graves was the
_Frankenstein_ who had created this monster, and now he had to suffer
for it.
One morning he arrived with a grim and desperate expression.
“An execution?” I asked.
I had become very friendly with Graves during this little complication.
He seemed to me less amusing than before, and much more human and
engaging.
“Yes,” said he. “She’s got to go. I’ve been thinking it over pretty
seriously. I’m afraid I’ve wasted the firm’s time and money in this
instance; but you don’t know how hard--”
“Graves,” I said, “you’re inconsistent. You’ll destroy any number of
harmless lives, and boast of it, and then you’ll apologize for having
been kindly and generous and altogether admirable.”
He turned red.
“Oh, get out!” he said, like a small boy, but the sympathy pleased him.
“Well, you see, it’s--well, she tries hard.”
No one denied that. Indeed, the unfortunate Miss Clare looked exhausted
and wan from her terrific efforts. She came early in the morning, before
there was any work given out, and she was always contriving plans for
working through her lunch hour. She was always thwarted in this,
however. We were too efficient to allow people not to eat; neither was
she allowed to stay after five o’clock.
This day, as on so many others, she was still typing frantically at half
past twelve, hoping to escape detection; but Miss Kelly espied her.
“You ought to be out for lunch, Miss Clare,” she said, in a human,
decent, kindly way. “Run along now. You’ll do all the better when you
come back.”
This was painful to me, because I knew that the poor girl was going to
be fired when she came back; but she didn’t suspect. She raised her
weary, anxious eyes to Miss Kelly’s face.
“Please let me stay!” she entreated. “I’ve fallen behind, and this hour
will help me to catch up.”
“No, Miss Clare, it won’t. You’ll be ill, and--” Miss Kelly began.
She was interrupted by the suave and mellow voice of Mr. Reddiman, our
great president.
“What’s this?” said he. “What’s this? One of our young women making
herself ill, eh? Working too hard?”
Every newcomer in our office marveled at Mr. Reddiman, and resented him,
and was convinced that he had no ability, no force, no possible
qualifications for being president of the company; but that never
lasted. Mr. Reddiman grew on you little by little until, after a few
months, you were willing to admit that you could scarcely have done
better yourself.
He had a mild, slow way. He put me in mind of an old gardener pottering
about in a greenhouse, when, with his hands clasped behind him, he
walked through the various rooms, stopping here and there. He was a
notably successful gardener, however. He made the business grow; and--he
got things done.
“I’m not working too hard!” said Miss Clare, perilously close to tears.
“I don’t _want_ any lunch. I want to finish these letters.”
“No, no, no, no!” said he pleasantly. “That won’t do. We can’t have
that!”
The poor creature was blandly hustled out of the office, well knowing
that Miss Kelly would be questioned about her, and that Miss Kelly
would answer with complete frankness.
But neither Miss Clare nor any other person could have imagined what
actually took place. Personally, while giving due credit to Mr.
Reddiman’s kind heart, acumen, and wisdom, I am inclined to give still
more credit to Miss Clare’s eyes; for I assure you that those eyes, when
filled with tears and raised to your face, were terribly potent. As I
said before, they were blue, but only the advertising department could
adequately describe the sort of blue.
Listen to the sequel, and bear in mind that I saw her look up at Mr.
Reddiman. I know that if I had been Mr. Reddiman, I, too--
Well, he went in to see Mr. Graves, whom he greatly admired and valued.
“In regard to this--er--Miss Clare,” he said. “I hear from Miss Kelly--”
“Yes, I know,” Graves answered miserably. “I’m going to discharge her
this afternoon.”
“You would be doing very wrong,” said Mr. Reddiman severely.
Graves was naturally astounded.
“I’ve done all I can to place her--” he began, but Mr. Reddiman
interrupted.
“Graves,” said he, “I’m afraid you are just a little inclined to
overlook the human element. After all, Graves, what is more valuable in
an employee than zeal? A--er--person who works with zeal and loyalty is,
to my mind, very much more desirable than one of your efficient,
soulless machines. The human element, Graves, the human element!
This--er--Miss Clare seems to be most earnest. I learn that she comes
early and remains late. To my personal knowledge, she wished to-day to
forego her lunch in order to complete her work. I shall not interfere in
your province, of course, but I hope--I hope strongly--that you will
reconsider your decision.”
It was Graves himself who told me about the interview.
“Well,” he said, “what could I do? Heaven knows I didn’t want to say a
word against the poor girl; but in duty to the company I had to tell him
what I’d done. He listened, and then he said again that I overlooked the
human element. He said that what she needed was encouragement, and that
she could start to-morrow morning as _his secretary_!”
“Aren’t you pleased?” I asked.
“_Pleased?_” he exclaimed. “I’m--I’m horrified! I’m--it’s outrageous!
It’s cruel! I can’t bear to think of it!” He paused. “It’s the end of
her,” he said tragically. “She’s about as well fitted to be his
secretary as she is to be president of the Chamber of Commerce. It’s
bound to end in a big row!”